Tonight, I held my inconsolable son in my arms as he wept. We were in his room on his bed surrounded by Mario Brothers posters and other things the average nine-year-old boy might have in his room.

An average nine-year-old boy. That’s all he wants to be.

Before the meltdown, Madeline and I were in the bedroom practicing our “faces” — she wants to be an actress when she grows up — so we were perfecting our look of “excited anticipation” in the mirror when I heard the bedroom door shut. I knew that Ben was trying to be subtle in getting my attention. Madeline and I weren’t being loud — we were laughing a bit — but we weren’t in hysterics or anything. He didn’t want to hear our laughter so he shut the door. I opened my door just in time to see his bedroom door close. I took that as a sure sign of trouble.

I peeked into his room to see him laying on his bed facing the wall. He didn’t respond when I said his name so I went over and sat down on the bed. He was crying. He told me he wanted to get some things off his chest. I motioned for him to crawl into my lap, making sure I was giving him the option to come to me instead of making him feel like a baby. This age is so delicate. He is unbelievably mature for such a young boy and it’s hard to not treat him like a baby, especially given all he’s been through. When he willingly crawled onto my lap, I cuddled and rocked him. And let him cry.

In between his sobs he said he wanted to get some things off his chest. Not knowing what was coming my way I held him close and told him he could tell me anything. He told me that he’s tired of his sister. I countered that being tired of a sibling is fairly normal. And then he told me that he was concerned about something “bad” he saw on the Internet two years ago. He had watched a video on YouTube that had some bad words in it. I told him that if it’s been over a year then he should just let that go. And then he started crying harder as he let the real questions that were plaguing him spew forth.

“Mom, I’m just so tired. When is this going to be over? Why can’t I just be a normal kid? Why is there no cure for this cancer?” Then he started talking about how he wished he could be in heaven instead of living through this hell.

I rubbed his back and rocked him on my lap. I was at a loss as to what I should say. I have no answers. I don’t know why he’s been given this road to travel. I just don’t know.

So, I cried, too, and admitted that I don’t have any answers as to why he has to go through this hooey. But I did ask him what we could do to make him feel more normal. He told me that maybe it was time for him to go back to school. My initial reaction was to say no, but I stopped myself and said we would bring it up with his teacher tomorrow. His antibody therapy is on more of a routine now and his immune system isn’t compromised like it was during his chemotherapy, but there’s still so much that he goes through on a daily basis. I don’t know if a full day of school is the right thing. But we’ll certainly ask. If it’s going to make him feel a bit more normal then maybe it’s a start to getting my pookie pie back on track.

So, would you be surprised to hear that I’m fighting a massive bought of depression? I smashed my foot at the Ronald McDonald House two weeks ago and finally went to the doctor about it a few days ago. Fortunately, it’s not broken, but I’m supposed to stay off of it (yeah, right) and give it time to heal. While I was in my doctor’s office, I asked for a different antidepressant because what I’m currently taking isn’t working. My doctor said, “Sarah, I’m afraid that nothing will work. Your life just sucks that bad.” Now, I love my doctor. We have an excellent rapport and she has been incredibly kind to me over the years. But when she made this statement my jaw dropped. I felt like I had won some sort of lifetime achievement award, and while I’ve always wanted to be a winner, this is not what I had in mind. “And the “crappiest life” award goes to… ”

Wow. I am so incredibly tired. How long, Lord? When will this be over?

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  1. Wow that just brought me to tears!!! I wish I could say something, ANYTHING that would help….but I just can not!!! I will say that I will continue to pray for strength and healing for you both!!! I just can not imagine being in either one of your shoes and am sooooo sorry you guys are going thru this awful experience!!!! LOTS OF LOVE TO YOU AND BEN!!!!!


  2. First, big hugs to you both. If it makes you feel any better I am sure you are not the only one going thru this, no one is ever truly alone in reguards to feelings – someone else has always been there and done that.

    That said, odd that your doc said what he did. They put me on several different antidepressents looking for the ‘right’ one – not because I was depressed but because it is ‘suppossed’ to help with a pain disorder I have.

    On all of them I was a crying mess, and with some it seemed all I could think about was suicide. Turns out the antidepressants were making me depressed. It’s not just 25 & under – the black box warning can apply to anyone (as I am well over 25!)

    So it may be you are on the wrong one and another will help – or it may be they are making you depressed or more depressed. If you haven’t tried several, and truly think you need one, then try another. I can’t take any of them, but there are people that they do help, once they find the right one.


  3. Praying that God will make a way for Ben to return to school and that he will experience other “normal” wonderful things that will encourage and comfort him.


  4. Oh Sarah. Just ugh and oh and angst and I wish I could make it all right for all of you. I have no words. And on the antidepressants. Ugh again. I never blogged about it, but I took them during much of Finn’s treatment and still feel like I need them to deal with the PTSD I know I’ve got. Where is my fricking magic wand? I want to give it to you.


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